Starcrossed Lovers From District Two
by write04ever
Summary: Some people are meant to love with each other, but are not meant to be together.
1. Chapter 1

**Cato**

It's my last day at Breyshire, the Academy where I have been training at for the past six years, waiting for my chance to volunteer for the games. It is technically illegal for us teenagers to train before the games begin, but here in District Two, we are favored by the Capitol and this thing is overlooked. The same goes for One and Four. All three of us are in the good light of the Capitol therefore we get away with much.

It's surreal that my time is finally here. Four years I have been here, training, studying prior games, all in the hope that one day I would have a chance to participate. There are those here who never get that chance.

Each year there are six new twelve year olds, three girls, three boys, who are accepted into Breyshire. Once they reach the age of seventeen, a pair is chosen to be the volunteers for their last year of eligibility for the games. This gets rid of the confusion of volunteers on reaping day. But occasionally there are those, like Clove and I, who are way ahead of our age training wise and are chosen over the eighteen years olds at a younger age. I am sixteen, Clove fifteen.

It's going to be me this year. I will volunteer, enter the arena and emerge victor. I can see it all now: being announced the winner, flying from the arena in a giant hovercraft, being crowned by President Snow, stepping foot in my house in the Victor's Village for the first time. How honored I will feel to have my name among the likes of Brutus and Martial and Lartius. Each of them sat where I'm sitting now, the day before their reapings, imagining a life of glory.

I am not participating in any of the activities today, much to my dismay. The directors don't want me injured before the reaping tomorrow. Makes sense. It just irks me. Why can't I get in a few more hours of training without the other tributes? Surely they won't be as advanced as me and I won't have anyone to measure up against.

Except for Clove.

"Excited?" she asks. I turn to look at her. Her gaze is not directed at me, but rather on a point in the large training area. What she is looking at, I can't tell. But she has a smile on her face that I know all too well. It's her 'I know I'm better than everyone and I can't wait to pound them' smile. I can't help grinning.

"Yeah. Can you believe it's finally here?"

"This time tomorrow we'll be standing in front of our district, side by side." Clove's fingers brush against my hand, a small gesture that means much more. A feeling stirs within me, but I force it away.

I look away and watch a boy training with a sword. A tall dummy stands in front of him, but he towers over it. This boy was possibly the only Career here that is taller than me. He swings his sword high and brings it down, slashing off the dummy's arms and head. He finishes by stabbing it just below the heart.

Not fast enough, I think. I was better than that when I was just thirteen. In order to get a clean kill, he'd have to move faster. If you move too slow there'll be more blood. Messy kills are frowned upon at Breyshire and in the games as well. The gamemakers don't want to spend their time cleaning up blood after retrieving a body.

If Fir wants even a chance of being selected as volunteer next year, he'd better step up his game. Sadly he's the forerunner for the boys. Next year is going to be a sad year for the District Two Careers. Fir will not make it even to the top six. If I could I'd stay and train with him.

But I can't. My time is up. I will be entering the arena in a week. I've prepared all my life and if I'm not a sure shot to win, I don't know who is.

Except for Clove. She has a strong chance.

"Who are the ones from One?" she asks. She's talking about the volunteers selected from our brother school Multe in District One. Word travels fast. I wouldn't be surprised if they knew of us as well.

"Glimmer and Marvel," I respond. "They'll be great allies, but easy enough to kill when the time comes."

"What about Four?"

"Minnow. There's no boy volunteer this year. I guess there's no one strong enough." District Four is also a Career district. They don't train at a special academy like we do, but they have special trainers that prepare Careers for the games. Alto is the only trainer I know. I met him once, I think. He's a beefy dude who loves to discuss tactics and fighting. He's an interesting guy.

Clove seems a bit uneasy at this news. I'm not sure if she's getting nervous or if she doesn't like the idea of only having five in the Career group instead of six. It's just one less person, but it makes a difference once you're in the arena.

"What if-who do you think has the best chance of winning?" Clove asks. She dodges my gaze and shifts in her seat. I know what she means of course.

Which one of us will be able to kill the other in the end?

"You, of course." I respond. And I know it's true as soon as the words leave my mouth. If someone else kills Clove, I will win. But if it's the two of us in the final two, she will prevail. It's not that she's stronger or smarter than me; she's not.

I would be standing in the way of my own victory.

There's a feeling that I get whenever I'm around Clove. Whenever I talk to her all I can focus on is her beautiful face. Whenever I fight beside her all I can think is how proud I am of her and how much I never want her to leave my side. Whenever we walk home from another long, grueling semester training, I can't help myself. I kiss her and pull her to the ground, lay beside her, run my hands through her hair.

Can I put all of those feelings aside? Can I just ignore them and pretend I do not feel this way about her. Can I kill her? I cannot of course. My aggressive nature makes me think I can, but I can't. We'll be in a dangerous situation this year.

Is there a place for love in the games?


	2. Chapter 2

**Clove**

How much I want to reach out for his hand. Entwine my fingers in his. Feel his hard, coarse skin against my soft skin. It's a contrast that I love.

Cato is more than a training partner. More than a friend. More than just another boy in District Two. We are lover forced into hiding because of our title; a career.

If only we didn't have to enter the arena together. I'm still stoked to get in there though, no matter who's entering with me. Maybe someone else will kill him before I have to.

No. I shake the thought from my mind. Better to focus on today.

I ask the one question that's been burning my mind. I know I promised myself I wouldn't think of the games anymore, but I can't help it. It's like a disease that never goes away.

"What if," I pause. That's the wrong way to ask it. "Who do you think has the best chance of winning?" I drop my gaze. It's a touchy subject, I know. But I need an answer. I need an answer. I need an answer.

"You, of course." Cato replies.

He's lying. I appreciate it, but he's lying all the same. He's much stronger than me. He could crush me with ease. All he's have to do was wrap his arms around me…

I'm no match for him one-on-one. And that's when I realize what his answer really means. He won't be able to kill me. He wouldn't be able to bring himself to do it. I can say the same. As long as we're not the top two, everything will be fine. But can I live without him? Is it possible?

"Clove," someone calls out. I look up to seed Director Flava beckoning me over. "Demonstrate." Leaving Cato sitting alone, I join the other careers. They're made up of a small group of fourteen year olds. They seem to shrink away as I walk by. I think they're intimidated by me. I smirk at a few of them.

Flava hands me a bunch of knives and I only smile bigger. This is my specialty. I can hit a target thirty feet out. That's my plan for the arena; find some knives and search out tributes.

"You've gotta hold it right." I tell the careers. They watch as I hold the hilt so it touches the center of my palm. My fingers instinctively wrap around the handle, two on each side of the blade, and my thumb presses into the back of the hilt. The knife feels familiar in my right hand. I always throw from my right.

"And then aim." I size up the target in front of me. It's nearly as tall as Cato, just barely taller than six foot. It's a ghost outline of a human. No one has that large of a head or that broad of shoulders. There are bull's eye targets on the head and chest. I aim for the head. You can still live with a traumatic brain injury, but a knife through the heart will kill you instantly.

Better to see someone suffer, right? Isn't that what the games are about? Pure entertainment for the Capitol. That's all it is.

I let out a quick breath as I release the knife. That's something I learned during my time at Breyshire. If you make a noise or breathe out quickly while throwing a weapon, you're more explosive.

I receive tentative applause when my knife hits true. I knew it would. I never miss. To give a faster paced demonstration, I took a bunch of knives in my left hand and threw each, one after another, at the dummy. I hit the center of the targets every time.

I never miss. Which is why I am going to win the Hunger Games this year. There is no doubt about it. I can hear Ceasar saying it now:

_Ladies and gentleman, from District One, Clove, this year's victor of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games!_

Then I remember Cato and my daydream turns dark. Instead of Ceasar, I see Flava standing over a wooden box. He's congratulating me and asking me how I managed to kill off the top three seeing as I was seriously undersized and out numbered. It takes me a while to realize its Cato's body in the box. My knees buckle and I fall on top of the wooden box, my arms flung across it, tears streaming down my face.

I pull myself from daydream and I'm happy to see I'm still in reality. The daydream scared me, truly scared me. And I don't get scared often. I may be a tough person, but there's some other side of me that only Cato can tap into.

"Maybe I'm not ready for this." I murmur as I wander back to where Cato is sitting, smiling up at me.


End file.
